


Singing Serpent

by LaughingTiger



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: F/M, Rivalry, Romance, Yuan-ti Bard, dragon disciple, power struggles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingTiger/pseuds/LaughingTiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rainesa Kynaston's departure from West Harbor was supposed to be about finding a bigger audience and making a name for herself. Instead she leaves the only home she's ever known pursued by unknown enemies who leave a path of destruction and death behind her. Despite the chaos, she still finds time to sing. As a yuan-ti pureblood magically disguised to appear human, much rests on her reputation as others learn her true nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disguise or Deception

**Author's Note:**

> Credits: Some dialogue is from the Gibberlings 3 Presents Romance Pack for NWN2 OC-MotB mod, or at least inspired by it. It's a fun mod, go check it out.
> 
> Picking up the story of the Kalak-cha and her companions as they seek the emissary from Waterdeep in Logram Eyegouger's lair....

Rainesa sliced her hand through the air, signaling her allies to hold. Three men– three _humans_ – were conversing just around the bend.

"Our prisoner _still_ refuses to talk," a man in a strange leather apron said. "Prepare the rack. We shall have to employ more... primitive methods. Lorne will expect results."

"At once, sir," one of the guards responded. "We'll break him eventually."

"Only then can he be turned," the interrogator agreed. "If he cannot be turned, then we will have to find Lorne another emissary to strike from within Neverwinter's walls.

Rainesa quietly backed away from the group. As she turned to issue battle orders, Casavir interrupted in an angry whisper, "These are no orcs, but monsters they remain."

The bard quelled her irritation. "Orcs don't have exclusive rights to evil," she reminded.

The paladin sneered, "Humans, resorting to torture, breaking fellow humans. They are no better than the beasts they serve."

"That's quite an assumption. Is 'Lorne' an orc you know of, then?" she questioned. "Do the orcs have a plan to 'strike from within Neverwinter's walls'? Because it seems their masters are not the 'beasts' we came to clear from these caverns."

"Even if so, we must bring them to justice," the stubborn paladin insisted.

"Because their victims are human?" She crossed her arms over her chest. Carrying the debate would likely bring the guards down on them, but the Orc lair had thus far provided little challenge, and perhaps being caught in the middle of a foolish argument would teach the self-righteous paladin a lesson. "Would it be more acceptable to torture gnomes, or elves? Orcs maybe? Explain your curious standards to me, please."

Casavir snorted in obvious irritation, "With Tyr as my witness, I am not going to argue racial suitability to torture on the cusp of battle, Rainesa. Ready yourself, they have heard us."

The bard turned away from him and cleared her mind. From somewhere behind her, Qara began throwing fireballs, and in the chaos of the explosions, she took a deep breath and began singing. Then, she adjusted her grip on her knives, waiting for the first foe to come to her.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casavir kept his eyes forward, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the bard. Logram Eyegouger's words rang through his mind again and again. _'And how will you kill me if you are dead, yuan-ti pureblood?'_ It wasn't until after the battle that the paladin had put together that Logram was speaking to the woman he allowed to lead him, and until then, he wouldn't have questioned for a moment that she was human.

But now... _'yuan-ti pureblood...'_ Now, out of the corner of his eye, her skin looked strange, and her eyes even stranger, but when he looked directly at her, she was ordinary. _No, never ordinary, not her, but human at least._ _Is it my suspicion, or is it some illusory disguise? She must be growing weary. When her strength fails, what will she appear to be?_ A knot of cold dread clenched his stomach and anger kept his weapon firmly in hand and at the ready. _Why? Will I use it on her if she is... what the orc said? How could he know? None of the others who follow her were taken aback. Has she charmed them– charmed all of us? Or do they know and follow her anyway? Perhaps the tales of the evil of that race should not be taken at face value. Perhaps she's different..._ Suddenly, his hand shot out to catch her arm. "Rainesa, we must speak before we carry on."

Her eyes flicked to his hand, but she made no attempt to free herself from his grasp. She looked around at their surroundings pointedly before holding his gaze, "We're in the middle of a foul pit of evil," she said with a bard's dramatic flair. "Are you sure it can't wait?"

Casavir gritted his teeth, feeling like a fool, but knowing he was driving himself to distraction with his doubts and suspicions. "Yes, it must be before we descend to the next level. Send the others to scout ahead."

She arched an eyebrow at him and a small smirk played over her lips, but she gave the command, and her allies obeyed, moving down the corridor, though they stayed within sight. "What troubles you, my friend?"

"Friend?" he spat angrily. "You call me such, yet I believe you have deceived me from the moment we met. Why did Logram call you yuan-ti pureblood?"

The bard sighed. "You haven't known me long enough to know _anything_ about me. But it wasn't my intent to deceive." She closed her eyes for a moment and tipped her head back, muttering arcane words. Just as he was about to reach out and shake her to demand answers, she _shimmered_ , and her appearance changed.

Despite himself, the paladin gasped. "You... it's true!"

She shrugged, holding her hands away from her body,"And now I stand before you uncloaked. I was raised among humans by an elf. I know nothing of my people. How will you judge me?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to study her features. She looked the same, he realized, but rather than calm him, he found the fact disturbing. Her disguise must have been some sort of illusion that manipulated his perception of her. Her waist-length, raven-black braids now showed a greenish sheen, and her skin shone faintly golden. Fine scales lined the lower sweep of her eyes and curved toward her temples, where they tapered outward into a larger patch that followed her hairline. And her eyes... Deep emerald still, but now horizontal streaks of molten gold cut across, highlighting the jagged, slitted pupils of a snake. He must have unconsciously changed his grip on his weapon, because her brow furrowed in concern and her gaze flicked toward the heavy hammer.

Her words betrayed nothing of her discomfort, however. "Do what you feel you must, paladin," she urged quietly, calmly. "I can't possibly defend myself against you without aid."

He gritted his teeth. Her calm acceptance shamed him and forced him to hold the attack his instincts told him was justified. "Your kind is renowned for cruelty and evil deeds. To an individual, yuan-ti purebloods are said to be self-serving, murderous, and untrustworthy. Your race seeks to subjugate or annihilate all others."

"So I've heard."

"But you are not like that, you showed mercy to those wounded orcs we happened across, and you spared the white wolves imprisoned in this dank cave once the druid calmed them. Elanee would not follow you if you were cruel and evil."

"That's true," she calmly intoned, but her gaze flicked to his weapon for a split second.

"I have no intention to harm you," Casavir forced himself to say. Her actions, when he thought her human, seemed well-intended, even if she showed a cold face in battle, and though she was undisciplined, reckless, and unpredictable– which could all be attributed to her obviously tender age and her chosen profession– she hadn't seemed the least bit sinister. But cast in a different light, he could easily believe he had merely misinterpreted her motives. _No, she deserves every chance I would give her if she were human. I will not judge her by the supposed deeds of her kind._ "Is there anything else you have lied to me about?"

"I've never spoken a lie to you," she insisted quietly. Her low voice was soothing and musical even when she was upset. "My disguise is second-nature to me, and some of it is composed of passive enchantments. I can maintain it in my sleep if I'm not too fatigued. It keeps me alive, Casavir. How many would kill me on sight if they could see the sheen of my skin or the scales? And what of my eyes– the eyes of a beast? It's a small glamour, nothing more. I was raised among humans. Never have I so much as laid eyes on another of my race. If I am intrinsically evil, it's yet to manifest. Though I'm still quite young, so perhaps there's time yet."

Casavir couldn't tell if her final claim was made in jest or not, so he ignored it. "You must never lie to me. Abide by that, and I will be your truest ally." He could tell his pledge surprised her and he tried not to smile at her expression. He thought he must have failed, because a smile very different from her usual half-hidden smirk graced her lips.

"Then I mustn't lie to you, Casavir, because what could be more valuable than the loyalty of a man such as you? Thank you."

"We should continue. I apologize for my doubts." She nodded and turned to rejoin her other companions, and he fell into step behind her. Despite her words, and his own, he intended to keep careful watch. Yuan-ti were a race as vile as the drow, and purebloods were often used as infiltrators. Rainesa was an aspiring member of Neverwinter's watch, from what he had gathered. In his opinion, as a bard, she wasn't particularly suited to many of the duties her position encompassed, and that cast further suspicion on her, though he would do as he pledged and reserve judgment, at least until she overtly acted against her stated interests.


	2. Evasion and Trust

"Elanee, how long did you follow me before you revealed yourself?" Rainesa asked lightly as she settled on a fallen log beside the elfin woman.

"For quite some time. Why do you ask?"

"Seems a natural question," the yuan-ti replied. "I think my curiosity is justified. Not many would be willing to believe that a stranger who claims she means well is trustworthy, you know."

"Yes, I suppose that is so. Deception is not something I have much practice at, however. You needn't fear anything from me, Rainesa."

"So you say, and so I hope. But until you choose to share more with me, forgive my suspicion. I _do_ believe you mean me well, but so did Daeghun for all those years."

"Daeghun is your... father?" the druid haltingly supplied.

Rainesa laughed, "He raised me, but I'm the daughter of no elf."

"No, of course not, but I'm sure he's proud of you, nonetheless."

Rainesa smiled and shook her head, "Daeghun is ashamed of nearly every choice I've made for myself. Music was bad enough, but performing– to him it's little better than whoring. He made that quite clear. He thinks I'm wasting my potential and running from my destiny."

"Come now," Elanee pleaded, horrified at what she was hearing, "your talent is a joy. He mustn't believe sharing your gift is shameful."

"Please feel free to tell him that. Though my... conduct makes up for it even if you were to convince him. It matters little to me, Elanee. My point was that good intentions have been the source of much misery in my life, and surely others have suffered more than I for the same reasons. Until you're willing to speak to me of this, I hope you understand my desire to avoid relying upon you. It's not a judgment of your character, and certainly not of your skill."

"I... see. I shall give it some thought. Conversation is not one of my strongest suits. Since revealing myself to you, I've spoken more than in the past half decade."

"I'm humbled by such a gift," Rainesa said with a half-hidden smile. She leaned close and lowered her voice slightly, "But even if your words are precious, talk is cheap."

Taken aback, Elanee recoiled, "I can't tell if you're flattering me or insulting me."

"Because I'm doing both, mysterious lady," the bard explained.

"Then why do I find it so charming?" the druid questioned with a smile. "I don't take insults lightly, but from you it feels... endearing."

"Well, I don't insult lightly. And, really, the compliment is where you're meant to focus. So, Elanee, may I write a song about you?"

"Me? What would you write? You hardly know me."

"I know the Mere, which by your own admission is the place in all your travels that drew you most. I know you better than you think."

"If it's a song of the Meredelain, then... yes. I think I'd like that."

The bard smiled at her, "Thank you. I hope I won't disappoint you."

* * *

Tears streamed down the druid's face, her fingers covering her lips. Finally, she opened her eyes, and wiped her cheeks, timidly meeting the bard's gaze. "How did you capture the soul of the land with nothing but a drum and voice?" she demanded with more force than she intended.

"Just wait until you hear it with Grobnar on the pipes. Unless you don't want to. You sound angry."

Elanee sighed, "Not with you. Thank you for your song, but I... don't wish to hear it again until I can return there. It is painful. Even in your song, there was a sense of the darkness."

"The mere is often a dark place. Darkness is not evil, nor is it corruption."

"Yes," Elanee agreed thoughtfully. "Perhaps that's why I love that place above all others."

Rainesa smiled, "Perhaps. Please let me sing it for you again, at least once so you can hear the full measure of the composition. The pipes will add light to the song."

"Very well. When?"

"By the end of the fortnight. I have a few more preparations to make, and Grobnar needs time to learn his part."

* * *

"I hear yer writing songs about us," Khelgar gruffly stated.

"I'm trying. Sometimes it's difficult."

"Well, go ahead and skip me, lass. Until I've got the training those monks are withholding, I'm not worthy of yer talents."

"That's certainly not true, my friend. In fact, if you just answer a few questions for me, I think I'll have it."

"I've set my mind. Not until I'm worthy, but I admit I'm looking forward to hearing my name and deeds in a song."

"Perhaps I could sing of a shared adventure. A ballad featuring all of us."

"Aye," the dwarf laughed, "that'd make for a fine evenin's entertainment." He lifted his tankard to his lips, drank deep, then wiped foam from his whiskers. "Eh, will ya be writin about the fiendling?"

"Of course. All of you, in time. How could I not be inspired by such an amazing band of adventurers?'

"Well, I suppose she's been useful on occasion, and she hasn't tried to stick a knife in yer back– at least not yet– so that's somethin."

"It is. She's also teaching me to pick locks so she doesn't have to come with me everywhere I go."

"Well, _that's_ good news. So long as I'm still at yer side, that is."

"Of course. Neeshka's a city girl and doesn't like 'the wilderness.' But you don't mind roughing it, so why would I go anywhere without you? Was there anything else, Khelgar?"

"Come have a drink with me when yeh get some time. There's a game I want to teach yeh."

"I have little time for games, but I'll do what I can."

"That's all I'm askin," the dwarf rumbled happily as he went to pull himself a tankard of ale.

* * *

"You wrote that for _me_?" Neeshka squealed. "It was so... amazing. I love it."

"Not just for you, _about_ you, Neesh. And I'm glad you like it. It was difficult framing _everything_ you do in a positive light," Rainesa explained with a wink.

"Oh, ha ha. I didn't ask you to make me sound like a lovable, charming trickster."

"But that really is what you are," the bard said, a small smile on her lips. "A bit greedy, a bit suspicious, but who wouldn't be in your position? Will you come to the performance in a few days and listen to me sing it for an audience?"

"An audience? Wait a minute, I don't know about _that_. Will they know it's about me?"

"Of course, if they pay attention. And I'm sure they'll like the song as much as you do, and those feelings will probably bleed over to how they feel about _you_. Seems like a good thing, doesn't it?"

"It does," Neeshka agreed with excitement. "If only that kind of crap actually worked," she glumly added, realizing it sounded too good to be true. "Like a song could do that."

"Why not?"Rainesa countered. "My songs help us both pick locks better, and you said yourself that when I sing you can dodge _anything_."

"You _are_ good, Rainesa, I'll give you that."

"Oh, come on," a gruff voice interrupted, causing both women to start and turn to face the man they had come to know as a virtual fixture of Duncan's bar. "You can't really believe that load of shit, fiendling. Your friend, Songweave, is a charlatan."

"This again?" Neeshka said acidly. "We weren't talking to _you_ , so shut it. Not like you'd know anything about it anyway."

"Listen, Serpent," Bishop began, smiling at Rainesa's concern for his chosen address. He decided to ignore her reaction for the moment. "I've heard you sing, and you're good, but if you think you're one of those bards who can _inspire_ people, you're mistaken. All you're inspiring in your audience is the desire to get you out of those painfully common clothes and on your back, and that's nothing special in a room full of drunks."

"Serpent?" Rainesa asked coolly.

"Yeah, I know what you are, even if you look human. I saw you when you came to meet your dear uncle. You looked different that night. And even if I hadn't seen it all, old Duncan is a good friend of mine," Bishop claimed with a brittle smile. "He talks about you all the time."

"Funny that he's never made an introduction, then." Rainesa pulled up a chair to take a seat at his table.

"Nah, don't do that," he said, waving her away. "If I wanted a wench, I'd go to the brothel."

"I see," she said, trying not to smile. "But what did you just say I inspire in my audience when I sing? And were you not listening? You seem confused, but very well. Suit yourself."

"Well, if you're offering, stick around. A few more drinks and you might even start to look good."

Rainesa leaned close, a smug, knowing smile on her face. "Even in my unflattering peasant garb, you can't take your eyes off me, pathfinder. But I think you're too drunk even now to do anything about it, so you're trying to hurt my feelings in the hopes that I'll scamper off and never learn the truth. Am I right?"

"Hah! Get out of my sight, I'm getting bored with this," the ranger said, taking a long pull from his tankard.

"Only boring men get bored. I'm Rainesa Kynaston," she said with a graceful bow. "Good evening, Bishop."

The ranger blinked, clearly surprised she knew his name, but he was only off-balance for a moment. "I knew 'Songweave' was some pretentious fabrication. And next time you decide to sing your tiefling a lullaby, do it in private, wench."

"It's a stage name, yes. And we do more interesting things in private, no time for lullabies. Neeshka?" Rainesa held out her arm for the tiefling, who quickly shook off her shock and played along, snugging her body close and slipping an arm around the bard. After a moment, she curled her tail loosely around Rainesa's waist as well. It was difficult for both women not to laugh at the ranger's slack-jawed stare as they left the common room.

Once they were safely out of sight, the dam broke and they both started giggling. Neeshka slid away from Rainesa's embrace and covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to keep her mirth quiet. "Oh, Rainesa, that was too good! Did you see his face?"

"Thank you for playing along, Neesh, it was priceless. He'll be mulling that over all night, at least."

"Aw, oh no," the rogue moaned, "He will, won't he? He's getting his slimy, dirty thoughts all over us right now, isn't he?"

"And what of it?" Rainesa dismissed.

"Whoah," Neeshka said, pulling the bard's arm to bring them face to face. "You like him, don't you? Rainesa, aim higher."

"You're ridiculous," Rainesa denied.

"No way, I can tell. You're totally hot for him," the rogue teased.

"What of it?" the bard said, shrugging away. "Show me a better option."

"Well, that's your problem right there, you're looking where you spend all your time. Namely, your uncle's tavern. Try the Moonstone Mask or, I don't know, _anywhere_ else. That Bishop guy gives me the creeps."

"Ooh, me too," the bard cooed, "but isn't it fun? I bet he's _dangerous_ ," she said with a wink, inspiring a giggle from her friend. "And you'll recall that he initiated the conversation. I didn't speak a word to him until he tried to insult me."

"You're _insane_ , Rainesa. I love it. So, uh, just tell me when you want to sing that song. I wanna be there, especially if Bishop's in the tavern. It'll annoy him, you know?"

"Of course. Thank you, Neeshka."

"And for the record, I've always defended you, and I don't think you're a fake. I mean, now I don't. Not that you ever made any claims about your songs, just... I know you're the real deal."

"I guess I don't need to wonder if people have noticed me around here. He's said I'm a charlatan to you before?"

"Well... yeah. He was really drunk and he was just being mean. I think he likes your singing, but he can't admit it. I told him that even if you were, you're still the best bard the Flagon's ever seen."

Rainesa chuckled, "I'll take that as it was meant. Thank you, Neeshka."


	3. Seven Notes of Music

"Tell me about yourself, Casavir," the young bard requested, falling into step beside him.

"What is it you wish to know?" the paladin guardedly asked.

"You," she replied with a small smirk.

He sighed, "Unless you have a specific question, perhaps it would be best to find a more productive use of your time."

"You intrigue me, _Katalmach_ ," she said, her inflection and pronunciation of the foreign word as perfect as if Orcish were her native tongue. "It isn't a title to be given, or taken, lightly."

"I wouldn't make much of it. Those who put it upon me knew little of discipline or focus."

"It means 'one who loses himself in battle' and implies what most would consider suicidal drive," the bard said, her voice low and musical.

"Indeed," the paladin replied tersely. "Where did you learn that?"

"I'm a bard. Knowing everything is part of the profession," she quipped.

"A heavy burden for one so young," Casavir countered drily.

"It is, but how could I consider depriving Ferun of my talent?" She glanced at him, and when he didn't reply, she tried again, "So? Do you seek your death in battle?"

"No," he answered shortly.

"Ah, so you seek something else in battle. What is it, then?"

"I'm... not sure I understand what you mean, Rainesa."

"Do you savor the violence and the kill?" she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Or do you enjoy exerting your power over other beings?"

"Of course not," Casavir replied angrily. "Do you mock me?"

"No, Casavir. I seek to understand you," she calmly explained, an enigmatic smile on her lips.

"Enough of your foolish questions."

The bard nodded, "Thank you for indulging me. I think I found the answers I wanted."

Casavir's expression remained stoic, though Rainesa could still see the tension in his jaw that betrayed his anger. _Face yourself, paladin, and you'll have less to fear from my questions_. Once he turned his back, she withdrew a roll of thin parchment and a sharpened piece of hard charcoal and began to make notes.

"My, are you composing, my dear?" Grobnar's chipper, over-loud voice startled her.

"Perhaps. Tell me, what do you think of our friend there?" she quietly asked, hoping Casavir was out of earshot.

"Well," the gnome began thoughtfully, "he was the _katalmach_ to those orcs we killed, I suppose, and a very fine ally to have at your back. Quite a terror with that hammer. But he's hiding from something, perhaps even from himself. Oh, but not in the way that would give him a darkened conscience, nothing like that."

"I think you're right, but I'm having trouble putting it into words. Why does a man like him fight so recklessly, if not to lose himself?"

"Hmmm... I don't know. But I do know you have the makings of a master bard, Rainesa. You know exactly the right questions to ask to bring you to the meat of a story."

Rainesa smiled, but otherwise ignored the compliment. "Devotion to his god only goes so far. Perhaps he does it to test himself? To dance on the edge of his ability and press ever a little further?"

"Yes!" the small man exclaimed, jabbing a finger into the air excitedly. "I think you have it there. That's just the sort of character to write an epic ballad about. Now you need a tragedy or moral crisis to get things moving, to add interest."

Rainesa smiled, "This isn't a ballad, Grobnar, I'm just trying to understand him."

"Oh," the gnome replied, his tone suggesting bewilderment. "A pity. You execute the classics to perfection, and your personal touch is positively charming, but I so love the few original compositions you've shared. I particularly liked the one about the dragon, even though it was an evil one that destroyed fields and villages and ate people. You must put more energy into composing, you've such a talent for it."

Rainesa's perpetual smile faded at his reference to the song she'd written about her dreams of living as a dragon. "I'd hardly call it that. Composing is taxing, and it seems that either a song wants to be written and comes out nearly right the first time, or it doesn't, and no amount of coaxing can make it worth listening to."

"Ah, you're one of _those_ musicians," the gnome stated with delight. "Very lucky, and it explains why your original work is so compelling. Perhaps we could work together and I could give you a different perspective on the process. Sadly, my inspiration is of a different sort, but it could provide you some, ah, tools– for when a piece gets particularly stubborn."

"I'd like that, though I suspect it might be difficult to find the time." She began writing, once more. "How did I get stuck spending so much of my time cracking skulls and killing monsters, anyway? Coming to Neverwinter was always supposed to be about finding a bigger audience, and making a name for myself," she mused, her voice low and quiet. "The first of many such journeys."

Grobnar recognized that she was merely voicing her thoughts and didn't seek a response. For once, he held his tongue and left her to her notes.

* * *

The last chord slowly died in the nearly empty taproom. Rainesa fixed her strange eyes on him and her lips curled into a smile. "Well?" she asked expectantly.

"I... that is... your performance was... enjoyable. Thank you for sharing that with me." Casavir broke eye contact and stood, hoping she would let him leave.

"I wrote a song about you, and that's all you have to say about it? Did I at least get it right?"

Casavir sighed, but saw little point in denying it. "Yes," he admitted as he retook his seat.

"Yes? Yes, that's all, or yes, I got it right?"

"Both. Clearly I'm an open book to you. Even without details, you've discerned more truth about my motives than even I am often aware of. Please... don't sing it again."

The yuan-ti bard's face fell, "Too good for the common folk, eh? Alright. Personally I thought it was one of my better compositions, but a singer who doesn't listen to her audience is a fool."

"You misunderstand. You've honored me, Rainesa. My request was a selfish wish to preserve my own privacy, not a critique of your work." The paladin shifted in his seat, what he really wanted was to ensure she wouldn't turn her keen powers of observation on him again, fearing what she might find if she looked deeply enough.

"I was hoping to use it to help you repair your reputation, actually. If I hit the mark I was aiming for, it should even work. Please let me try?"

"I... suppose if you were to expand the composition to include your other allies, and perhaps even yourself..."

"No, no, that's not what this piece is. It won't work if I put everyone in it. What if I did separate pieces for the others?" she offered."I could present them in a set, then you're not singled out in the strictest sense and it won't diminish the magic." She already had several compositions completed. Isolating the songs might give each piece more impact, but they would compliment one another well as the subjects of each song complimented each other in battle.

"Magic?"

Rainesa smiled, "You know, the magic of my dazzling performance. Your presence when I sing it will help too."

Casavir sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Why did interacting with the bard always put such a strain on him? _She's too charming by half and more worldly than a woman twice her age,_ he answered himself. _And I know nothing of her race, save the cliche that they're all evil, self-serving snakes. In a human, I'd be convinced she's sincerely what she seems to be, but I can't trust my instincts with her._

For all that, he found her presence compelling in a way that disturbed him. It was difficult to bring himself to leave her company for any but the most pressing reasons. And for that, he did what he could to limit the time he spent by her side. This _fascination_ was not a thing to be indulged, but to be wary of. For all he knew, it was a spell or some weird natural trait of her kind that enthralled him so. Before he could make an excuse to miss any public performance of the song she'd written about him, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, setting his heart aflutter.

"I didn't mean to make you angry when we spoke before, and I'm sorry for your headaches. I seem to cause them. Please let me sing the song. We can try a small audience first and if you don't like their reaction, I'll forget the song and never pester you with it again."

"Fair enough. Though you needn't forget the song in any circumstance. The melody is... it's very good. It would be a shame to never hear it again."

She graced him with a warm smile, "It's settled then. I'll finish a few more of the songs I'm working on and sing at the end of the fortnight." She leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Casavir forced himself to remain still, though the instant he realized she was leaning close to kiss him, he had the insane urge to turn his face, to catch that kiss on his lips and snare her with his arms. Her breath on his cheek sent a sweet shiver down his spine. Her lips curved into an enigmatic smile and she straightened. The look she gave him as she stood to leave made him remember exactly how clearly she had already seen into him, and he dreaded the reason behind her smile.


	4. Fire Dance

"So, why do you do this?" Qara asked loudly, interrupting Rainesa's meditations. "I didn't take you for a religious zealot. Besides, I thought yuan-ti all worshiped Set."

The bard straightened, but didn't turn to face the sorceress. "I've never known another yuan-ti. And it's Sseth to them."

"But you pray to Kossuth... Strange."

"Why strange?" Rainesa questioned. "Surely you, of all people, must appreciate the power of fire?"

"I do, yeah, but all this..." she gestured toward the alter and the large burning brazier, "what does it get you?"

"Warm," Rainesa joked with half a smile. She didn't feel like talking, but Qara was probably the best out of all those who might feel compelled to bother her in the present setting.

Duncan had somehow known, not only her chosen deity, but the reason she had chosen to worship Kossuth. Daeghun must have kept in better contact with his half-brother than she knew. Shortly after she arrived in Neverwinter, he presented her with a brazier stamped with the twined flames of Kossuth– he had even cleared the southern portion of the kitchen yard behind the inn for her to use.

Qara turned to leave,"Don't want to talk about it, fine. I was just being conversational anyway."

"You give up too easily, Qara," Rainesa called, inviting the young sorceress to sit beside her.

"Oh yeah? Well, then, what's the real answer?" Qara challenged, leaning against the wall of the courtyard.

"Fire is beautiful, pure. Untamable and unforgiving. It reminds me of how I wish to live."

"Huh. Well, all that makes sense, but what does that have to do with the sacrifices and prayers you never neglect to offer every day?"

"Nothing. Daeghun, and by extension Duncan, believe Kossuth chose me."

"Chose you?" Qara said, her words dripping with skepticism.

"I had a dream... a vision. When I told fa... Daeghun, he dragged me to Father Merring, the only cleric in West Harbor, and made me repeat it. Father Merring nearly died of shock and told us I had been chosen by a god– Kossuth. They think I'm a favored soul. But they were wrong, I'm not."

"But you had a vision," Qara said, her interest plain. "If you have a calling..."

"I don't. They were wrong. When I related the dream, my words were the words of an aspiring poet. I tried to capture the... terrible splendor I'd dreamed with my words, and something in that made them think it was a god that made me see what I saw. I know better.

"Daeghun was furious with me, in his quiet way, when I turned my back on my 'calling' and continued to follow the path of a musician. He believes I had the dream, but he doesn't believe I'm wise enough to understand it."

"And what makes you so sure you are?"

"I pray, I make offerings, and Kossuth ignores me, as he does all his followers. And I know what the dream was. I was a dragon. I flew, and I had the flames of the hottest furnace within me. But my anger and hatred were hotter still, and without depth. There was no god, no calling, except my own need to destroy my enemies utterly and vent my hatred and sorrow on all in my path." She smiled, remembering, "And the joy of flight. Gods! I'd give anything to feel that again."

"Wow. So you were, like, an evil dragon, then? That's what that one song was about, isn't it?"

Rainesa's brow furrowed. This was a point she couldn't be certain of. She knew what she saw and what she felt, and that was the assumption of anyone who heard the song she'd written about the dream, but somehow, _evil_ didn't seem to fit. "My scales were the red of blood and fire and sunset, but a being like that... it seems they must be beyond good and evil."

Qara raised an eyebrow, "Well, a red dragon would make sense, with the fire and all. Why do you think you'd dream that?"

"I don't know. The one thing the cleric said that I agreed with at all was that it wasn't just a dream, but a vision. It was more real and vital than a dream. I felt more alive than I ever have before or since. But what does such a vision mean?" The bard shook her head.

"Well, don't tell Casavir you dreamed about being a red dragon and destroying a village unless you can keep the glee out of your voice. I think he's still pretty terrified that you might be an infiltrator, and a fantasy about being an evil dragon won't help your case."

Rainesa chuckled, "Ah, yes, infiltrating tavern life on the docks of Neverwinter." She smiled and bit her lip, then leaned closer to Qara, "Would you like to see something?"

"That depends..." the sorceress began warily.

"You'll like it, I think. I've been practicing some things, and I'm ready to try for real now. Watch from over there," Rainesa requested, gesturing across the yard. Qara obeyed, and the bard tied back her long braids, then shrugged out of her shirt. Underneath, she wore a short leather vest. She glanced to her audience of one and winked, then picked up a length of thin chain with a fist-sized ball of oil-soaked wick at each end.

She dipped the wicks into the brazier to light them, then began spinning them, faster and faster and the flames at each end roared and flared bright, fanned by the motion. At first the flames moved together, but the bard carefully manipulated the chain to slowly separate the wicks from one another. She passed the spinning chain, which now appeared and moved like a solid staff, from hand to hand around her body, over her head, then tossed it high in the air. With the flat of her palm, she bounced it back into the air three times before catching it and spinning with its momentum. She continued her performance a few moments longer, until the flames began to dim as the oil was consumed.

She finished by letting the chain wind around her open hand, causing the flames to spiral quickly inward. A sharp breath extinguished the flames once they came to a rest, and a quick, practiced jerk sent them spiraling outward once again. She tossed the chain high into the air and stepped forward, letting the extinguished chain fall to the ground behind her. The bard, ever a performer, even if only for a single observer, bowed with a flourish. When she straightened, she met Qara's gaze and smiled as the sorceress shook herself, finally composing the wide-eyed and open-mouthed stare she had likely worn through most of the short performance.

"No applause?" Rainesa quietly teased, stooping to retrieve her shirt.

"I... um. That was... how did you learn to do that?"

The bard shrugged. "I went to the Moonstone Mask a while back and ended up playing for the dancers. One of them gave me a dancing lesson afterward."

"And she taught you _that_?"

Rainesa smirked, "No, she taught me something else. But her lesson made me wonder if I could do this."

"That makes absolutely no sense, Rainesa."

"Sure it does. When you think about what dancing is, everything begins to look like a dance. This is just the beginning, Qara. So, you still haven't said whether you liked it or not," she prompted.

"Glory-hound. I don't see the point, honestly. Fire is about power, and twirling that thing around was all show. But if you're going to do it, you should do it in the dark, when the fire is all that illuminates you. It'll be much more impressive."

"I'll try it," the bard promised with a smile. Qara's cool response to the performance was expected. Her obvious awe at the end of the display before she composed herself was more than Rainesa had hoped for. "Do you suppose I got my god's attention? I think I'll pray and see."

"Uh, if that didn't do it, he'll never notice you. Just let me leave before you start, I don't need any divine attention splashing over onto me."

"You make it sound so dirty, Qara," the bard chided, a smirk on her lips.

The sorceress turned back, her surprise quickly replaced by an uneven grin. "You'd better hope no-one's listening to you now, Songweave, or you might regret that joke. I doubt the god of fire has a sense of humor." Qara shook her head, still smiling, and went back into the tavern.

Rainesa's smile faded and she let the shirt slip from her fingers, back to the cobbles of the courtyard. It was probably filthy from lying on the ground and her skin was slicked with sweat from the heat of the fires and the physical exertion, and she didn't feel like putting it back on. She knelt before the blazing brazier and tipped her head toward the noonday sun, letting the heat wash over her. She _had_ intended to pray. The flaming chain was meant to be a devotion to Kossuth, but no words came to her. _I have nothing to ask of you, Flame Lord. Ignore me._ She was about to let the enchantments that disguised her slip, suddenly feeling very relaxed, when another voice rang through the courtyard.

"Well, now, what do we have here?" Bishop's tone painted his sneer clearly in her mind, even without looking at him. "Do you always strip when you pray, Kynaston? Don't let me stop you."

She plucked her shirt from the ground and put it on before addressing him, very glad he hadn't caught her without her disguise. "Bishop. It's Rainesa, please."

"Do they ever answer, _Rain_?"

The bard cocked her head to the side, "He does, when I ask for the right things."

"Well, isn't that convenient? If you don't get what you pray for, you weren't asking for the right things. Very tidy. I didn't take you for a fool," he spat derisively.

She shrugged, "Ask the gods to ignore you and it's likely they will. Is there something you wanted to say, or are you just here to watch? I always appreciate an audience, but it helps when I know I'm performing, you see. You already missed the show."

Bishop held her gaze for a long, silent moment, then turned and walked away. Rainesa shook her head and returned her attention to the flames, wishing she could remove the clinging shirt, but fearing more traffic through the courtyard. Her disguise was good, but it wasn't infallible, and the less the spell had to hide, the better it worked. She dismissed her discomfort and settled herself more comfortably, then fixed her gaze on the flames, letting her focus soften. She sat until the flame died down to embers.

* * *

Duncan set something on the table with a clink, "I found this out back. I thought you might be looking for it."

Rainesa set down her quill, capped the ink and set aside the parchment that held her latest composition. "I'm not looking for anything," she began, her curiosity piqued. She reached out for the heavy gold armlet, wanting to inspect it. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the smooth, shining surface, which was adorned with a dark, glistening gem. Her heart fluttered when she saw the twined flames of Kossuth engraved on the inner surface. "Where did this come from?"

"I was sweeping up the coals and ashes that fell out of the brazier and I must have jostled the thing. It fell to the cobbles. I thought perhaps you'd... purified it or tried to have your god bless it or some such in the fire and forgotten to retrieve it when it cooled.

"No, I didn't put it there."

"It has your god's mark on it," Duncan stated with wide eyes.

"I saw."

"Well, it seems he's given you a gift," Duncan suggested, clearly distressed by the idea of divine attention so close to home. "Can you tell what it's for?"

Rainesa bit her lip, suddenly worried at the implications of the armlet's appearance. Despite her misgivings, she knew it was intended for her, and she didn't want to offend a god by spurning a gift. She slipped it over her hand, but her shirt sleeve prevented her from wearing it properly so she let it dangle about her wrist . "I'll find out. Tonight. Can you clear the courtyard a bit for me, Duncan?"

"Should I be worried, lass?"

"I am," she admitted. "Any who wish to observe are welcome. I need to prepare."

"Damn straight you do, girl. You've got the eyes of a god on you."

* * *

Casavir crossed his arms across his chest. It had been a long time since he had witnessed an act of devotion performed by someone who had not been called to follow the path of a cleric or paladin, and never a devotee to the flame god, Kossuth. What he had heard of the Flame Lord's religion made him worry, however, and Rainesa seemed to be preparing to self-incinerate. She had carefully poured lamp oil on the cobbles in a simple spiral labyrinth. The brazier burned high at the entrance to the labyrinth and Rainesa stood before it. Casavir glanced at the assembled spectators– her uncle and her allies watched in rapt attention, and a few of the _Flagon's_ regulars as well, including the man he had come to know as a smuggler and acquaintance of Duncan. _Bishop. I mislike that one's presence here tonight_ , the paladin thought, gritting his teeth. If he could be certain it wouldn't disrupt Rainesa's concentration, he would have happily removed the ranger from the gathering.

Any further contemplation was cut short when the bard untied the sash holding her robes closed and tossed the garment aside. Underneath, she wore a few scraps of leather– barely enough to preserve her modesty– and a heavy gold armband. Her feet were bare and her long braids were twisted into a thick rope hanging down her back. She lifted a short staff from the brazier, revealing that the end held a bloom of flame. Without hesitation, she traced the fire over her arms and sketched a pattern across her chest and stomach. It was clear the kiss of fire caused her pain, but she didn't falter, and the flames left no mark on her.

She twirled the staff and tilted her head toward the evening sky, suddenly spewing a gout of flame into the air from her mouth. The plume of fire was short-lived, and she theatrically slammed the blazing end of the staff to the oil-soaked cobbles, igniting the spiral maze. She spat, causing the flames to jump and Casavir realized how she had breathed fire. _A mouthful of oil, ignited by the staff. Brave, but foolish._ In truth, he was relieved to realize it was a mummer's trick, nothing more.

"Stare a little harder, paladin, and you'll set her on fire yourself," the ranger teased in a low whisper.

"Silence, knave. She needs not your distractions," Casavir hissed.

"Not that I blame you," the ranger continued, completely ignoring him. "With a body like that, it's a shame she doesn't show more skin more often. But of course, we know why she doesn't. Under the spells, she's probably a scaly monstrosity."

Casavir's jaw tightened, "She is as lovely without them, there are only minor differences."

"Well, now, I'm surprised you've seen enough of her to be able to make the comparison. Been peeking through her window at night or are the two of you secret lovers?" the ranger jibed.

"I... of course I haven't seen her... like this before," Casavir stammered, certain he was blushing. "This devotion is for not for our eyes, but that of her god."

"Of course it is," the ranger smirked, settling back to watch the show.

While they argued, Rainesa had switched the staff for a chain with flames at each end. She turned it in lazy circles as she spun and stepped through the labyrinth of fire. Once she reached the center, she shifted her rhythm and the ends separated, counterbalancing one another. Grasping the chain with both hands in the center, she changed the direction of one end, crossing the flames in front of her body and back again. She spun and turned several times without disrupting the motion of the chain.

Casavir tried to keep his eyes on her hands, but in the growing dark and as the fuel spilled onto the ground was consumed, it was easier to watch the dancing flames. Rainesa's movement became a series of still flashes as the flames briefly illuminated her, gleaming on her sweat-slicked skin and framing her body in the alluring poses of her dance.

The bard allowed the chain to wrap her body, but the moment the flames kissed her, she spun them outward again. The chain began to dim and she slowed her dance, letting the flaming ends meet once again. Removing one hand, she traced a series of lazy loops, stalling and switching direction several times until finally she dipped the flame in front of her face and extinguished the chain with a strong breath.

Rainesa turned and lifted the staff once more, or perhaps it was a second staff, then gracefully ignited a second, untouched line of oil. This time, rather than a careful maze, a solid path several yards long and several feet wide took flame, washing the courtyard in heat. Suddenly realizing her intent, Casavir tensed. He had no wish to witness what he was sure would follow. Worshipers of Kossuth were said to frequently demonstrate their faith by walking across hot coals. She advanced with the graceful, measured steps of a dancer. It wasn't until the third step into the flames that a hint of distress crossed her face, but her pace didn't falter. The flames licked at her legs, reaching past her knees, and it was difficult to see, but it seemed that the soles of her feet were aflame. _Not her feet, just the oil on them. The fuel burns away and leaves her untouched,_ the paladin frantically reassured himself. Finally, she reached the end of the trial she had set before herself.

Her whole body shook, but she hadn't cried out, and she appeared completely unharmed. Her skin no longer glistened with sweat– the heat had dried every trace of moisture– but he could see not so much as a single blister to tell the tale of what she had just done. She quickly regained her composure, seeming untouched by her experience. She lifted her face to the sky as she twirled the staff before her. She lowered the flaming wick toward her face and extinguished the flame by closing her lips around the wick, appearing to consume the fire.

"Kossuth!" she called, a wisp of smoke trailing from her lips. Her voice rang into the night and startled her audience. Grobnar recognized the end of the devotion and began clapping wildly, inspiring others to join in his applause– somewhat more reservedly, however. The bard ignored the audience. Her demeanor changed and she dropped the staff carelessly to the ground. She returned to stand before the brazier, then dropped to one knee. Before anyone had a chance to wonder at the sudden shift, she plunged her hands deep into the flame, lifting a handful of embers.

"No, lass!" Duncan called, rushing to her side. He grasped her forearm, but didn't dare pry the heart of the fire from her hand. She was clearly wracked with pain, but she held on. Casavir warred with himself, but Duncan's reaction encouraged his choice to rush to her side, though she ignored his presence. The paladin prepared a blessing of healing, and placed a hand on her shoulder, only remembering her state of dress at the feeling of her warm, smoothly scaled shoulder under his palm. Finally, a strangled sob escaped her throat and she dropped the coals.

Her open palm was scorched black, but the skin was whole. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, "I'm fine, Casavir, Uncle. The fire didn't harm me." The paladin removed his hand from her and retreated from, seeing it was true.

"The hells it didn't, I saw your face, you were in agony!" Duncan argued, searching for some injury on her.

"She is whole, innkeep. Her faith and devotion has earned the blessing of her god," Casavir said, supporting the bard's claims.

"I'm exhausted, and _parched._ I need a drink," the bard murmured.

"Well, no wonder, girl. That's what you get for eating flame. Qara!" Duncan called, "Get her some water and a glass of wine." The command earned an angry glare from the sorceress, but Qara glanced at Rainesa and obeyed.

The bard gestured for Duncan to hand her the robe she had discarded, and he scurried to place it in her hand. She donned it, then stood."Thank you for your support, everyone," she said loudly, her gaze passing over the onlookers with a small smile on her lips. She seemed truly pleased by each observer's presence, and Casavir wondered what she must be thinking as she watched several people return to the taproom. "Perhaps next time I'll be able to make it a show worth watching," she quietly added to those who remained. "This is only my second time lighting the chain."

"Nonsense!" Grobnar contested cheerily. "Why, that was the most amazing, uh, fire dance I've ever observed! I doubt anyone here can say otherwise."

"I know I've never seen anything like it," Neeshka chipped in, her enthusiasm dampened by obvious concern. Rainesa flashed her a smile.

"But the next time yer plannin to burn yerself to the bone, warn us," Khelgar scolded. "My heart nearly stopped, lass. How did ya know it wouldn't cause harm?"

"Her faith and devotion shielded her," Casavir supplied before the bard had a chance to. He felt childish for it, but part of him wanted to show her that he understood, and he knew he didn't dare seek her for a private conversation.

"It's interesting when the gods choose to answer prayers," Bishop drawled, a smirk twisting his lips, "isn't it, Rain? Congratulations, it seems you've gotten some divine attention."

Rainesa's smile faded and she held the ranger's gaze for a long moment before responding. "I suppose if it weren't unexpected, our faith would be weak."

"As it should be," the ranger muttered as he left the courtyard.

"Pay him no heed, Rainesa," Casavir counseled. "He is faithless and has no understanding of what you've experienced."

"Then he understands nearly as well as I do," the young woman said with a laugh. "But I'm sure knowledge will come in time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested, her fire chain is a version of a fire meteor, though she's using it more like a set of fire poi during most of the performance. Youtube can provide some visuals, if anyone's interested, by searching "fire poi" or similar. It's much more impressive to see than to read about. Chain whip is a chosen weapon of Kossuth, at least according to the pathfinder game books (not necessarily included in NWN2), so I thought it was particularly appropriate for her to use something like that in this case. Which reminds me, I'll be using the information from the pen and paper system to supplement the lore from the game.


	5. molten

Rainesa savored the nearly overpowering flood of scents as she stepped into the small magic shop. The noise and stink of the docks was gone the moment she crossed the threshold. She could almost imagine herself no longer in Neverwinter. No wonder Sand was so sour whenever he left this place, it was a world unto itself, and what was outside its doors was nothing to be admired. Her aching feet and tired muscles sapped her curiosity and ability to savor the setting for more than a few moments. Sand hadn't turned away from his work sorting the contents of a shelf behind the counter, and didn't until she dropped the heavy gold armband onto the counter. The interruption earned an irritated glare from the moon elf tending the shop. "Is there something you need, young lady?" the mage demanded.

"Appraisal," the bard replied simply, her tone cool. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to barricade herself into her room at the Flagon with a jug of wine and drink herself to sleep. Working as a guard was utterly miserable, and her dreams of late robbed her of rest. A problem she hoped Sand might help her correct. "Can you identify the stone in this?" she asked, clarifying her request when Sand merely stared at her.

"Of course I can," Sand replied, a sneer on his lips. He plucked the armband from the counter and studied it for a few moments, turning it over a few times and inspecting the inscription. "Interesting. And how did you come by this, my dear?" he asked, the form of address sounding more patronizing than fond or familiar. "It appears to be an artifact of Kossuth."

"It is," Rainesa said, holding his gaze. "I found it in the ashes of my devotional fire. Rather, Duncan found it."

"Ah, your 'uncle.' Is that what he told you, or did you witness his discovery? In my experience, he's not the most trustworthy of individuals."

"He's a better man than most, in my experience. And I didn't need to see it. That thing is worth a year's lease on the Flagon, at least. He had no reason to lie."

"Yes. And as such a valuable piece, and also considering that it's a divine artifact, the fee for appraisal is going to be quite high. Five-hundred silver."

Rainesa had expected as much, but her heart sank. Why couldn't it ever be easy? She had the money, but there were so many things she needed it for. But this _was_ more important than all of them. If she could ever find time to perform, she could make that much in a few nights doing what she loved. _If_ she could find the time. "I already know what it does," she said, hoping Sand might consider giving her a discount. "I just want you to tell me what the stone is. I had a dream about it, and I need to know..."

"Yes, that's very fascinating," the elf interrupted. "Unless you'd like to rely upon your dream to tell you what it is, I'm going to have to insist on the full fee. It's entirely possible it has properties you're yet unaware of. Five-hundred silver, as I said. And before you ask, that's the 'friends and family' discount, because since you showed up in town, Duncan's company has been far less offensive than usual. He even tries not to drink himself into oblivion every evening."

Rainesa shook her head and dropped a purse to the counter. "It immediately heals damage from fire and heat, but it leaves much of the pain. My dream tells me the stone is actually a drop of dragon blood. I'd love for you to tell me it's not, because the dream was quite clear on what I'm to do with it if it actually is."

"Indeed?" the mage said, examining the jewel with a magnifying loupe. His brow furrowed and he scratched the gem near its setting with a small file. Shaking his head, he finally cast an identification cantrip over the gold bangle. "And what did your wild dreams tell you to do with it?" he eventually asked, his tone and expression sour.

"I was right?" the bard whispered.

"Yes, as difficult as that is to believe, I think you were correct. It appears to be crystallized dragon blood, or at least to contain it. If you have reason to believe the dream might have been... related to the armlet's appearance, you should carefully consider your actions," he advised, holding the armband out for her to take, then wiping his fingers on a cloth he produced from behind the counter.

Rainesa stared at the artifact for a moment after taking it back. "I'm supposed to melt it down in a stone cup, inscribed with... runes. The gold and the blood will liquify at the same temperature. Then I'm supposed to drink it."

"Which I hope I don't need to tell you will kill you almost immediately, but not before you suffer horribly," the elf acidly informed her.

"It won't," she argued. "The enchantments on the gold will hold, as long as I'm touching it. The dragon blood will... change me."

"That much metal in your stomach will surely kill you, even if you can survive the molten temperature."

"It will change me," she repeated. "I'll survive." _And if I don't, at least I won't have to walk another cursed patrol route,_ she silently added.

"The enchantments on this will do nothing to alleviate the _agony_ you'll feel as the metal slowly cools."

"I know," she said, her voice hushed. That part of the dream was also very clear. As clear as the name of the dragon she was to carve into the cup. What was unclear was how a favor of Kossuth was adorned with a drop of dragon's blood, and why the ritual had nothing to do with Kossuth specifically. She tucked the armlet into her pouch since there was no way she could put it on until she doffed her ring mail shirt and under-tunic, though not wearing it made her feel edgy. "You were right. I need to think carefully before making a decision. Thank you, Sand."

"Wait, bard," he called, and she stopped. "Are you chosen by your god?"

"So it seems. I'm sure Duncan would be happy to relate the tale. It's one of the few stories I don't enjoy telling."

"Ah, that reminds me. I had the pleasure of experiencing your performance last week. It's been a long time since I heard a true bard sing. Your enchantments were very skillfully wrought. Though I doubt your companions value your talent as they should. You're wasted in the city guard."

"Artists are rarely valued as they deserve until they're no longer capable of enjoying the applause," she said with a soft smile. "I'm glad you appreciated my songs. I wish I had more time to compose and perform. Neverwinter isn't what I hoped it would be. Thank you for your expert opinion, Sand," she said, inclining her head and turning to leave.

"A prayer voiced to Kossuth will enhance the enchantment for a short time, if you are indeed one of his chosen," Sand stated, his doubt that she was a favored soul was plain.

Rainesa didn't look back and merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had feared as much. The dream was clear– she wasn't to invoke Kossuth's name during the ritual. She would have to endure, or the enchantment would break and she'd be killed. Gods and dragons were cruel beings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I'll get back to the canon story very soon. Certain things (game mechanics) must be explained (rendered into story events) first.


End file.
